


Out Alive

by Enzuri



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Hemospectrum Shift, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enzuri/pseuds/Enzuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Eridan Ampora, and sometimes you wonder if it would have been better to just die rather than live in hiding like this.</p><p>The explosion that killed almost all of the Empire's slaves was sweeps ago, but you still dream about it, day after day after day, and no amount of sopor slime helps sooth those memories. Worst of all, you can't see any physicians for it because one, as a seadweller, you're at the bottom of the food change and can't afford treatment, and two, you're not supposed to have those memories. According to all records, you died in explosion, and you want to keep it that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Alright guys, instead of working on After The Finish Line like I should have been I was writing this because it hit me and I had to. Its an AU with a reversed hemospectrum and no Sburb. The AMAZING Homoso helped me edit because they are the best. Please enjoy~! :D

Your name is Eridan Ampora, and sometimes you wonder if it would have been better to just die rather than live in hiding like this.

The explosion that killed almost all of the Empire's slaves was sweeps ago, but you still dream about it, day after day after day, and no amount of sopor slime helps sooth those memories. Worst of all, you can't see any physicians for it because one, as a seadweller, you're at the bottom of the food change and can't afford treatment, and two, you're not supposed to have those memories. According to all records, you died in explosion, and you want to keep it that way.

The newest Empress had declared the acquisition of new slaves to be outlawed, but those of you branded before her ruling are still stuck in the Empire's grasp. There's only a few of you now, and the number on your arm reflects that. You were only four sweeps when the ship went down, and just under a sweep when the new Empress was put into power. The number on your arm dwindled as your fellow slaves died until it read eleven. There are eleven of you left, and you're pretty sure most of them are living in the main palace. If they found you, you'd be there too and you're pretty sure there would be a harsh punishment for not returning like good property. But as a seadweller you're going to outlive this Empress and probably the next, and you don't want to be treated like shit, even if that's how the world sees you.

You're glad for weather like this when the moons are obscured by thick clouds and heavy, cold rain rolls down your face. Its the only weather that doesn't have your scumbag boss complaining about your long sleeves. You can't wear anything but, no matter how badly you want to, because you risk having that number or your scarring show and then your secret would be out. Usually when he bitches at you about your clothes, you just remark that there are enough floozies working at the bar who show enough skin to more than make up for you.

You work in the grimiest bar you've ever seen, and you've seen a lot in your travels, but you work there because the guy didn't ask for any real details because he could see your fins and paid everyone under the counter anyway. It was the perfect job for someone on the run, and it was the only job you'd managed to get in this city and it was barely keeping you alive. You were probably going to have to move on soon, but you're getting so tired of running. You wish there was something that would keep you anchored long enough to get some rest. There will never be rest for you.

It looks like its going to be a night like any other. You've already had three cat calls directed at you and more suggestions of what you should be wearing. One of your coworkers catches those exchanges and distracts those patrons with her own grey. You're grateful and you wish that you could get to know her better, she's another seadweller but she was lucky enough to be hatched out of captivity. You think you could be friends if you didn't have to keep yourself so distant. Sometimes, you wonder if anyone realizes how fucking lucky they are that they get to just live their lives and have friends and fill quadrants without feeling guilty because they don't have to disappear.

You notice right away when he comes in. He's got crimson outlining his symbol which meant he could only be one person: the head of the Empress's threshecutioners. But that's not what keeps your attention. He's got the most striking features you've ever seen; severe and dark, mouth set in a line that screams fuck off even when closed. You wonder what could leave him with such dark circles under his eyes, and hunched shoulders. He's the most pitiable you've ever seen and your blood pusher squeezes just thinking about it. He's the last troll you should talk to because he's so close to the Empress. And if he found out who you were Well, you wouldn't put it past them to decide you should be culled for your insolence.

He sits himself in a dark corner booth and stares at everyone like the whole of the troll race has done something to offend him and he's going to yell at the next person to talk to him. Fuck. He's in your section and Feferi gently reminds you that you need to go take his order. You almost beg her to do it except you really do want to talk to him. It couldn't hurt right? Wrong.

"Took you fucking long enough. I'll have whatever has the most sugar liquor in this place." He snaps at you before you have a chance to say your name and you don't bother to either, just turning around to get his drink. The bartender raises an eyebrow at the request but he shrugs and makes what looks like the fruitiest drink you've ever seen. You didn't even know this place had those little paper umbrellas, youd thought it was too much of a dump for that. You're actually kind of impressed with the drink when you bring it over, sidestepping a regular who makes a grab for your ass.

You set it down in front of him and he furrows his eyebrows like he's trying to understand what this monstrosity is. "Bartender says that's the only thing wwe havve wwith sugar." You're stumbling a bit over your words, you're so nervous, but you manage to keep a straight face. The last time you spoke to someone on his rank it was to beg for the caning to stop. You were three sweeps. "Evverythin' else is hard liquor."

He looks you over the same way he did to the drink and you want to shrink into yourself so that he stops looking through you. "Order another one of these terrors and join me." You're pretty sure that was an offer and not an order, but you're worried about offending him by turning it down. So you head back to ask Feferi to watch your tables while you sit with him. No one complains about it because you're all pretty sure he's the highest caste that's ever come in here, even though he's technically outside that system.

You set the second drink down but hesitate before sitting. He actually has to smack the booth seat beside him before you do. You don't know what to say so you take a sip of the drink and shit, whatever's in here probably costs more than two of your paychecks because it actually tastes good and not like swill. You savour another sip because you're never going to taste that again. Or anything like it, for that matter.

"Is it good then?" Shit had he been watching you? He tries it himself and makes a face. "What the fuck is in this, sugar and paint thinner?"

"I dunno; fruit juice and some sorta liquor." You can feel your cheeks colouring because you don't know anything about what's good and what's not and now he knows that.

"Well, it'll do the goddamned trick, alright. Drink up."

You take another sip, but you're still confused as to why he bothered to invite you to join him. He's not making any conversation and clearly has no plans to either. Oh. Oh, no. What if he's figured it out? What if you messed up somewhere and someone saw your brand and reported you? Maybe he was just getting you drunk so that you'd be easier to take in. You don't know if you should stop drinking and hope you're still able to hold your own or to just to keep drinking and hope that when you get hauled in, they chose culling you over keeping you in their services.

"You know what sucks? Quadrants and assholes who can't shut up about them like they think we all want to fucking know their business." You're surprised by the topic of conversation but now that you're closer, you can see he's younger than you had originally thought, probably at that age when every troll was trying to fill as many buckets and quadrants as possible. You never had the luxury of going through that, but you see it all the time in the bar. "Sorry, never mind. I just wanted you to sit with me so that I wasn't fucking drinking alone like some bulge sucking alcoholic."

"Naww, that's okay. I understand." You take another sip and relax a bit. He wasn't here to arrest you, then. "Nevver understood the fuss ovver 'em, myself."

"I just don't give a fuck about who pailed who and however many times. I swear to god everyone in the fucking palace doesn't have anything else going on in their think pans. It's disgraceful. I just want to do my job, not hear about every asshole's love life."

"I wwoulda nevver thought it wwas that bad there."

"Are you kidding me? The Empress herself is almost as bad as the rest of them. I would rather rip my protein chute out with my bare hands than listen to them anymore."

"Is your lovve life that dry?" Fuck why did you say that? You always forget how fast these drinks hit you, its not like you have a lot of places for it to go, and youre barely more than skin and bones from living off a lowblood's wages.

Why is that everyone's first fucking assumption? That has nothing to do with it. Also, its none of your goddamned business." He downs the drink in one long pull and with how he slams the glass down, you're pretty sure he's going to leave; but he just demands another one. You're slipping away when he reminds you to get second one for yourself, too. You ask the bartender to make yours a little weaker this time because you're not sure how much you really can handle.

You make it to drink three at least. The second lasted Karkat, as he finally introduced himself, longer because apparently the guy actually watches a lot of romantic comedies and spent an hour talking about how that's how quadrants should be handled. You have to take his word on it because movies are not something you watch on a regular basis, if ever. You might have made it through a third drink, but when you were carrying them back to your corner table the regular from earlier swipes at your ass again and you're not paying enough attention to dodge it.

End result? You fumbling the drinks and ending up with them all over your shirt. The asshole who did it just laughs and high fives her friends. Fuck. Well, there goes your night. You'll have to beg the boss for the rest of your shift off so you can go home and get out of this sticky mess. He's not pleased about it, but he caves and you grab the drink that the bartender remade for your guest. You deliver it with a quick apology, rushing to the back before he can say anything. You borrow a t-shirt from one coworker's locker and a hoodie from someone else.

Everyone's busy in the front of the place, so it should be safe to change in the store room. You've just pulled the hem of your shirt over your head when you hear the doorknob turn. You panic because fuck, your number is showing and your scars. How the fuck are you going to explain that to whoever is opening the door? Turns out those two drinks had your defences down long enough for you to make the biggest mistake of your life.

It's Karkat. You're screwed. Anyone else and you might have been able to talk your way out of it but with him, he was probably authorized to cull you on the spot.

"Eridan? Why the hell do you let them treat you like-" He doesn't finish his question, he's too busy staring at your arm, just below your shoulder. Eleven. Eleven was going to be your downfall. "Is that what I fucking think it is?"

"Fuck. Kar, its not wwhat it looks like." You scramble for words, stumbling as you back up. He slams the door behind him, leaving just the two of you in the little storage room, where no one will be witness to your culling.

"Put a fucking shirt on you moron." He hisses the words at you. "Before someone sees."

You don't question him, almost tearing the borrowed shirt as you pull it over your head. It's huge on you, same with the hoodie but you feel better because at least now you're covered. You still don't know what he's going to do to you. He looks as relieved as you feel when you're covered up, but that doesn't last long. He's back to scowling within moments, and you can see that he's trying to work out the same thing you are. What now?

"Why are you back here?" Maybe if you change the subject to something else it will cut the tension.

"I was coming to see if you were okay, asshat." No luck, it's just as bad, maybe worse because it looked like Karkat might be actually blushing for some reason. "I was also going to ask if you wanted to come back to my place but that fucking can't happen now. Waltzing you into the palace would be the dumbest plan in the world."

"Oh." Invite you back to his place? That was unexpected, now you had another reason to curse the brand on your arm because fuck you would have liked a chance at that. Not that you would have been able to say yes if he had asked but... Well, you have another option, not sure if he'll bite though. "Wwe could go back ta mine, it's a dump though."

Okay, he saying yes to your proposal was the last thing you expected and you're still not sure why he did. The drinks made your think pan fuzzy enough that logic was a hard concept to grasp. In the shuttle, which was his personal shuttle, not a public transit one which you didnt even know was a real thing, he starts muttering about what to do about you. That worries you, but he hasn't mentioned culling yet, or even returning you to the Empress's service so you take that as a good sign. Apparently, she's a lot more benevolent than her predecessors, but he doesn't want to risk the court's reaction to bringing you in. They'd honestly thought there was only the other ten left.

He's surprised how long it's taking to get to your hive, and impressed when you tell him that you have to walk it most of the way. Most of the shuttle routes are too expensive to waste your minimal wages on and, despite how shady your bar is, it's in a better part of the city. It leaves you time to ask another question: why he's helping you rather than just handing you over for your punishment. It takes him a minute before he can answer, because he's looking at you like you just insulted him majorly with that.

"Look. I'm obviously a mutant right? You're not too blind or stupid to have missed that." You don't quite cringe away from him, but you think about it. "Well, when I was first hatched, mutants were still culled if they were caught. I lived in hiding with my lusus for sweeps. Its only because I'm friends with the Empress' moirail that I'm even around now. One of the only things that shitstain, Sollux, is good for. When he found out what I was, he talked to her and she revoked the law. Even made me the Head Threshecutioners so that if a mutant was culled, the people would know it was for a real reason and not prejudice based."

"Look I know what it's like when someone has to live on the run, live in hiding. I could see it in your face the minute you walked up to me in that shithole. Its why I told you to take a fucking seat because I thought you could use with a minute or two of rest." You can see the sweeps lined in his face as he talks, and your bloodpusher gives another one of those tight squeezes. He did something for you and he didn't even know you. You want to erase whatever scars his past has left on him, but you can't even fix your own. You're still on the run.

The shuttle comes to a stop in front of the hivestem you're temporarily calling home. You can see it in his face that he already doesn't like it. This is the worst neighbourhood and everything here reeks of sopor and death. You're used to the smell of it, just waving at him to follow. If he stands out here gawking, he'll probably get mugged or jumped. His face is even fuller of sympathy when he sees the inside of your place. Its just two rooms, the one for your trap and the respiteblock. There's a half screen over where the kitchen is, but really, the place is a dump. It's worse than your last place, but that's mostly because the last place you'd poached when you realized it was empty before anyone else did.

Karkat looks like he's trying to decide where he's least likely to catch something if he sits down. You sink down onto the pile you made when you got here, pointing out to him that the rest had come with the place. That doesn't sit well with him, you assume, because he comes and sits with you, even though there as barely enough room for just you. From this close, you can see the bit of red that's still on his cheeks from the drinks, and you're pretty sure you've got a matching purple stain on your face. He looks nervous, but he asks to see your arm again. You hesitate; really, you shouldn't be doing this but fuck, he's already seen it once, denying him now won't change anything. Besides, these clothes are huge and you're swimming in them. You can't wait to have them off. You toss them towards the door so you won't forget to return them, hopefully before their owners realize that they're missing.

His fingers are gentle as he traces the scarring around your branded number. Some of them are from the ceremony; straight, thin lines of light grey in a set pattern. But your back and sides bear scars from every mistake you made as you learned how to survive in the ranks of the slaves. His fingers go to those, lingering on the ones that split your gills in ragged patches. You're not sure what it is that you read in his eyes but he won't meet yours when he promises you that he's going to find a way to help you stop running. To escape all of this.

It sounds too good to be true, and it probably was. It doesn't stop you from agreeing, though, trying to get your pulse to slow because you're sure he can feel how its racing. Its just you've never had anyone touch you like this before, so kindly and that, mixing with your mild intoxication, makes you want to trill for him. You won't because you're pretty sure that's not okay, but then he's touching the torn fins at the side of your face and even though you know you should be listening to what he's saying, you can't help but chirp with your next breath.

That catches him off guard and he pulls his hand away for a moment, staring hard at your face. You're about to apologize when he puts his hand back and strokes at the fin a little, and instead of words you chirp again and fuck, good going, Eridan. That was apparently what he was looking for, though, because his other hand starts to pet at the fin on the other side of your face, and you melt a little, wishing you could tell him to stop because its making you squirm inappropriately. He seems fascinated by your reaction, probably because he didn't realize how sensitive seadwellers were there.

Then one of his hands starts to trace the outline of one of your torso gills and your breath hitches, because that's sensitive too, which you'd never realized before. You're not sure if that's because of the liquor of if its just because he's the one doing the touching. His eyebrows are still furrowed though and you want to find a way to smooth them out, to see him looking more relaxed or happy or something. You know that its the liquor that gives you the bravery to lean in and kiss in the middle of those wrinkles.

He looks like he's going to object; he probably has a moirail and that was a pretty pale thing to do, even though that's not the kind of pity rushing through your veins right now. He doesn't object though, because his thumb just passed over one of your tines and you let out a whimpering chirp and that does the trick, his face looking less severe without those creases. You mumbled something about how you're sorry, that was inappropriate but he doesn't say anything because his mouth is too busy covering yours to speak.

You trill in the back of your throat and your hands hover over his sides, because you don't know what to do. You've never done this before, but his hands know exactly what they're doing, still petting at your fins and gills. You work your lips against his, parting them to pant only to find his tongue slipping past your razor teeth. Oh, oh this is a delicious thing because he's still sweet from the drinks, or maybe that's just what kisses just taste like. His mouth is more intoxicating than the drinks ever were, your body heating up while you try to crush yourself against him.

You still don't know what to do with your hands, so you slide them up the back of his shirt and lock them in his hair, which he seems to like because he moans into your mouth and the hand on your side is tugging you as close as you can go.

"Nn-fuck."

Your hands brushed the base of his horns and he melted at that. He breaks the kiss to tug his shirt off, and throws it in the same general direction that you had before crushing himself to you. He's warmer than you, than your seadwelling blood, and its amazing, like adding liquor to fire. You shift, because this pile is too small, until your knees are on either side of his hips and his hands are holding you there like he thinks you might try to leave. Why would you ever leave? You keep running your fingers over his blunt horns and this time when he breaks the kiss its to nip and suck at the soft flesh of your neck.

Your nook is starting to drip enough to stain your already ruined pants, your bulge tight in its sheath. You'd like to think if it weren't for the alcohol still buzzing through your veins, you would have more control on that front. But shit, he's just so pitiable and you want it, you want him so much. You think you feel something squirming beneath you and... Yes, he wants it, too. You're clueless but eager, and you try to wiggle your hips against his, which makes him curse again, hushed and heated. That reaction sends a wave of pride through you; maybe you weren't going to be horrible at this.

"Can," he's talking against your neck, lips still brushing skin. "Can we get these fucking pants off, now?"

"Yeah, hold on." You nearly fall over as you scramble to get to your feet, you don't even have the chance to try and undo your pants, because his hands are at the clasp first, tugging them down at the same time, nearly ripping them. You don't have many clothes but right now you don't care how ruined they get because you just need to be out of them. You're just as desperate, fumbling with getting his pants off, legs going inside out when they get stuck on his calves.

You don't even get his pants all the way off before he's pulling you back onto his lap. Your mouths are locked again, when something wraps itself around your half unsheathed bulge, and you pull back with a startled half-moan. His lips just shift to suck on the tip of one of your fins, and you shiver as you realize what's got you in its grip. You knew his blood was crimson, you knew it but somehow you're still mesmerized by the colour of it. Your staring must make him uncomfortable, because he starts to back away, himself, apologizing.

Instead of replying, you reach for his horns again, tongue licking its way past his blunt fangs, hips sliding closer. You're so close now, that both bulges are trapped between your torsos, smearing lines of purple and red on the gray. Your actions are more effective than words would have been, you think, because his hands are sliding down until they're grabbing your ass, grinding you down. It feels fucking amazing, but its not enough, not with how much your nook is aching right now. You're pretty sure that his lap is coloured purple by this point.

He must have the same train of thought as you, because he's shifting his hips and using one hand to try and untangle your bulges. When they're free, youre lifted onto your knees just long enough for the tip of Karkat's bulge to run along the folds of your nook, and fuck, you need more right now. You squirm your hips and he gets the picture, letting you slide down around him. You have to take it slow, since your nook isn't used to more than just your fingers. You hiss a little as you make it to the root of him, and both of you pant as you wait for a moment.

His bulge doesn't want to wait, though, because it starts to shift inside you, curling and twisting slowly at first until you let out a hungry trill and slowly grind your hips. Karkat's hands are at your waist, keeping you steady as both of you try to find a rhythm. Its awkward at first, limbs and hips unfamiliar, but then his bulge passes over a pleasure node and you shiver helplessly, the muscles of your nook rippling pleasingly around him. You've got your mouth nipping at the top of his ear and his moans pressing into your collarbone.

He flips you both after the next delicate grind of your hips, your knees pulling up so he can get flush against you. He's deeper now, and he passes over that pleasure node with every thrust and shift. Even though you're trembling and keening from being so full and you feel like you're falling apart, its still not enough. You're inexperienced and you really don't know what you're doing, but you wonder if maybe, if you shift this way, you could-

Karkat looks down at you, confused when you push his torso up a bit, moans still falling from both of your lips. But the confusion vanishes when your bulge does what you hoped it would do: seek out heat. The tip of your bulge slides past his until it buries itself in his entrance and the troll above you curses long, loud and low. This changes the rhythm of everything, but you're both gasping and grinding and its a wonder he lasted so long inside of you, because he's wet and warm and everything is so tight but perfect and the pressure is getting to be too much for you.

It becomes too much, much sooner than you would have liked, and everything spills over; purple stained legs and bulges, and the pile and you don't care about, because you washed over caring in a wave of pleasure. You get hit with a second wave that makes you shudder in delight when he follows you over the edge, adding red to the purple. He slumps back down on top of you, kissing your neck gently, but even that makes you feel like you're on fire and your breath catches in your gills. You both have to lay there like that, just breathing until you finally feel too grimy to stay there, ushering Karkat off of you reluctantly and into the trap. You would have skipped that part but you can't afford anymore sopor slime until next week, and you'd both turn it some uncodly shade of brown.

You've never shared a recuperacoon with anyone, but you wonder how you're ever going to sleep alone again after he climbs in with you. Its the first night you don't find yourself gasping for air in a dying airship with your family slaughtered all around you.

You're disappointed to see him go when the moons come up, but you don't know what you were expecting. Of course he was going to have to go. Except he shows up at your work again, near closing time, and insists on giving you a lift in his shuttle. He's decided he's going to help you escape your fate one way or another, even after you try to convince him that its okay, you're doing fine. He assures you that you're not. This becomes the pattern for the next few weeks since you work basically every night. When you get to your hive, talking isn't something that lasts long enough to create any solid plans, and you end up sticky messes over and over. It might not be overly productive, but it is the best thing that's ever happened to you.

Then he gets called away for a job, far enough away that he's going to be gone for a couple of weeks. He tells you to quit your job, offering the funds you'd need to get by until he gets back, worried that someone else was going to find you before he had a chance to save you. It doesn't seem to matter that you've survived sweeps on your own already, and his obvious affection always gets your blood pusher racing. He actually offered to upgrade you to a better hive, but you refused; taking his money to keep you from working seemed wrong enough as it was, but you could only refuse so much, you were getting so tired.

Its a full perigee before he's back from his job and when you answer the knock on your door he's wearing an odd expression.

"So you wouldn't work for anyone in the Empire right? None of the assholes in the court or Her service?"

"No. I can't take that again. The beatin's and the nevver bein' free This life might seem horrible to you, but its the better than the alternativve, trust me." You're kind of offended he would even ask, but you still step aside so he can come in.

"Even if that asshole was me?" Karkat's shifting from foot to foot and his face seems nervous, and you aren't sure what he did but you can bet you aren't going to like it, because it's sounding like he's turning you in. Maybe you'd have time to get to a knife so you can stop it before it happens. You always swore death would be better than servitude. "Because uh, the problem with her Imperial Pain in the Ass is that the souls of the dead can talk to her. And one of those douche bags told her about you, whispered it in her ear or some shit."

You sit down hard. Not even on a pile, just the floor. Fuck, you are so fucked.

"Anyway, she can't change the fact that you're a servant, she had her whole fucking staff going over ever goddamned law looking for a loophole, but there isn't one. Not for your freedom, at least." He looks so sorry telling you this, and even though you feel numb because you've lost everything you had, your blood pusher still stumbles a bit at the pure pity of it. "Except if she assigns you to someone who isn't going to fucking order you around, and treat you like shit." He looks embarrassed now. "She assigned you to me."

"Wwhat?" Your voice is a ghost of what it normally is. If you've been given orders then your number should have changed, the colour of it at least. That's how they could see which of you have permanent placements, and those who were free game. Your fingers scramble to grab your hem to tug your shirt off to see. You never look at it, it's a painful reminder but sure enough its not the black you're used to. The crimson looks strange and new, and you're not sure how you feel about it but you don't have a choice.

There was nothing really that you wanted to keep in your hive. It was mostly trash; you'd lived so lightly over the sweeps, never anyplace long enough to make emotional attachments to anyone or anything. Your new respiteblock is bigger than any hive you've ever lived in but you're rarely in there.

You actually feel useful. It turns out you're good at tactics and planning, and you're a welcome addition to the threshecutioner team because now they spend less time planning and more time doing their job. They even pay you for your help, even though you shouldn't be. This is your assignment; you are a slave not a servant. It turns out that the remaining ten are paid too. The Empress couldn't free them but she could try and treat them like real trolls rather than possessions until the day she could free you all from your numbers.

If you aren't in the headquarters poring over maps and files, you're in Karkat's respiteblock, keeping it straight and tidy as you can. He's been on a mission for a perigee and a half, so the place looks pretty meticulous, but you're still in there just to make sure it doesn't need to be dusted or something. You're about to leave when the door opens and he stumbles in. He looks tired as always, but when he catches sight of you he smiles. It still makes your blood pusher skip a beat and your think pan melt every time he looks at you like that. You know he's tired and probably needs to do a debriefing and rest, but none of those things get done that night as you both lose yourselves to each other once more.


End file.
